The Ernie Harwell Media Center was abuzz for game one of the American League Division Series (ALDS) on Saturday night; and there wasnít a seat in there for me.

So I stood.

For nine innings the collective click and clack of laptop computers filled the mostly quiet press box, as writers from near and afar tweaked their columns and stories as deadlines closed in.

I was fortunate, though, because I saw the game from a different perspective than what I am accustomed to. Looking out through the giant glass windows was like looking into one of those snow globes. The sights, sounds and colors were more amplified than I could ever recall.

Then again, I had never attended a playoff baseball game.

The experience humbled me, but brought me back to one simple fact: baseball is engrained into society. My second observation was that while being high-paid professionals; Major League players are normal people as well, and I have the stories to prove it.

As the game ended, writers and television reporters began to converge on the clubhouse area. Itís amazing the power that a little plastic badge can have. The freedom to go nearly anywhere inside Comerica Park was exciting, but at the same time, unnerving. Walking into the Tigersí clubhouse was like walking into another world.

But before I got there, a Hall of Fame player and legendary manager stood in my way.

Joe Torre.

I took the time out to introduce myself to him and we spoke for a moment as he waited for the elevator. Torre showed great humility and care as he took time to shake my hand. Itís a chance meeting that I will never forget.

In the clubhouse, cameras were in the face of catcher Alex Avila, the hero of the night, who hit a homerun in the bottom of the fifth, which turned out to be more than what the Tigers needed to win. Quintin Berry also had a number of cameras in his face. But one person strolled into the clubhouse and wasnít harassed.

The man of the night, Justin Verlander made his presence known, slumping down on a black leather couch in the middle of the clubhouse. I quickly learned that the ace does not speak in the clubhouse when speaking in the post-game press conference. To me, Verlander was the elephant in the room; so I and a writer from Baseball Digest watched JV for a few moments.

Verlander was watching the game highlights on the MLB Network, with a Coors Light in his right hand. The first inning homerun by Oaklandís Coco Crisp was replayed and Verlander grimaced. I didnít get it. He had just pitched a one-run; three hit game, but still found fault in his performance.

Page 2 of 2 - Moral of the story: even professionals are human. We sometimes get caught up in how great these athletes are on a grand stage. But what we forget is that they are just normal people like you and me. The ace of the Detroit Tigers went out and threw a whale of a game, and afterwards he winds down like most Americans do with a cold beer in hand.

I was there, half fan, half writer. Many things scratch at the hearts of Americans, including friends and family. On Saturday night, baseball scratched at my heart once again.

And it felt good.

Gary Baker is the sports editor for The Daily Reporter. He can be reached at sports@thedailyreporter.com.